


Trust Exercises

by eerian_sadow



Series: A Long Term Arrangement [8]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Comfort, Community: pbam, Fluff, Light BDSM, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Painting, Porn Battle, non-smutty BDSM, non-standard pairing, so light you'll miss it BDSM, working through trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 22:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3626664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunstreaker's past experiences make it hard for him to let Prowl in on his hobby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Exercises

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally supposed to be an entry for Porn Battle Amnesty's Golden Oldies round this February. I had some health issues that caused me to miss the deadline and left the fic unfinished for a bit. The prompts I used were: touch, submission, dominance, bondage, detailing, painting, polish
> 
> Remember, everyone, BDSM doesn't have to be about pain play, actual restraint or any of the more glamorized aspects. It's about trust between partners more than most other aspects, and that's the focus here. (Well, that and the huge degree of fulfillment that Prowl gets from taking care of his partner's needs, no matter what they are.)
> 
> This particular piece is set after Prowl and Sunstreaker have been together roughly six months.

"Sunstreaker?"

"Yes, sir?" The golden mech froze in position, with his paint brush just touching the metal sheet he had been applying color to, and shuttered his optics.

"What are you painting?" Prowl asked, moving up behind his partner and peering intently at the lines etched into the metal.

Sunstreaker visibly relaxed and opened his optic shutters. "It's nothing special, just a landscape."

"This looks like the wilderness preserve at Gygax." 

"Yes, sir. It is."

The corners of Prowl's lips quirked up. "My mentor used to take me there when I was young. You've captured it just as I remember it."

"Thank you, sir."

"Sunstreaker, we're not in a scene. Stop calling me sir." The younger mech tensed up again at the tone. The tactician laid his hands on the other mech's shoulders, trying to soothe him. "Why are you so nervous? You show true talent here."

"My last partner didn't like that I painted." Sunstreaker pulled his brush away from the metal and dropped it into a cup of solvent. Then he wrapped his arms around himself. "He was... really abusive when he caught me doing it. I guess I'm just trained to expect that now."

"I would never punish you for creating art." The elder mech pulled the yellow twin back against his chest and wrapped his arms around Sunstreaker. "What can I do to help you enjoy painting again?"

"I always enjoy painting." Sunstreaker leaned into the embrace and let Prowl hold him. "It's letting you see that's hard."

"Then I can see only one solution."

"What?" The yellow mech sounded hopeful. 

"We will perform a simple scene, where you paint and I watch. Then I will reward you appropriately."

Sunstreaker tensed again for a moment. Then he nodded. "Yeah, okay. I know you're not him, and I want to be able to show my paintings to you."

"Thank you." Prowl smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of Sunstreaker's helm.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sunstreaker felt silly as he set up their scene while Prowl was tied up in a surprise meeting. Painting was as normal and un-erotic as scrubbing floors, but Prowl had been so excited as they discussed the parameters. 

He couldn't figure out if the older mech was excited about helping him overcome his conditioning, or if he was really just looking forward to their time in the berth.

Carefully, he set up his easel and canvas, making sure it was unlikely to topple over if one of them broke from their pre-arranged script. Then he set out his paints, cool colors for a soothing abstract piece to hang in Prowl's office once they were finished. His brushes were third, pulled from their storage case and arranged in a cup attached to his easel for easy access. Finally, he filled a second cup with paint solvent to clean his brushes with and set it next to the paints.

When he was satisfied with his workstation, he stepped into Prowl's berth room. It was a little strange to be setting out their toys, but they would have to reschedule everything if he waited for the tactician to get back from his meeting and do it.

He set out the pieces Prowl had specifically asked for first: a soft organic cloth blindfold, the cooling lubricant and a solid foam wedge that would prop Sunstreaker's hips up at a variety of angles. Then he added the flexible handcuffs, the ones he preferred when they were in the berth, so that he could keep his hands off of Prowl.

He knew he would enjoy whatever the black and white mech did to him, but he was still incredibly nervous about letting the older mech see his painting. Sunstreaker didn't want to try and stop his partner out of misplaced anxiety unless he actually needed his safeword.

The artist started to leave the room, then paused briefly in the door. He smiled to himself and turned back to the storage chest. Happily, Sunstreaker pulled out a few pillows and added them to the berth, pleased with how much more comfortable and soothing they made it look. He and Prowl wanted this to be a scene that would help him escape the reminders of his abuser, and a comfortable, fluffy berth would certainly do that.

Satisfied with his preparation, Sunstreaker returned to the sitting room where he had put up his easel. Prowl had told him that he didn't have to wait on him to get started, and he wanted to make some headway on his partner's gift.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sunstreaker's brush was moving briskly across the canvas when Prowl stepped into the room. The golden twin was so engrossed in his work that he didn't even notice the door opening, and the tactician used that lack of awareness to move up behind the younger mech and watch him intently.

The warrior's hand was skilled in this area, his brush strokes confident and sure. If he felt his art contained any mistakes, he wasn't showing it as he created the image. Prowl was surprised by the lack of obvious subject matter, though; based on the sketch and aborted painting he had seen before, he had expected something traditional rather than the geometric designs taking place before him. Instead, his optics were met with a series of blue triangles and diamonds, arranged in such a way that they appeared to be moving across the canvas in a wave.

"Purple or green?" Sunstreaker asked unexpectedly.

"I'm sorry?" Prowl replied.

"For the focus. Purple or green?" The artist paused and turned to look at his partner with a shy smile. "It's for you, so i'd like it to be to your tastes."

The tactician was instantly humbled. He knew that Sunstreaker was already having difficulty just allowing him to watch, but to be given the painting as a gift was something he had never expected. Prowl was, frankly, astounded at the level of trust the yellow mech was giving him already. "I prefer greens, but you are the artist and I bow to your superior knowledge."

"Green it is." Sunstreaker's smile widened a bit and he turned back to his work. He dropped his brush into his cup of solvent to clean it, swirled it to loosen the paint and pulled it back out. Then he set it aside and picked up a wider brush and dipped it into a jar of pale green paint. With that still-confident hand, he began adding small triangles scattered amidst the blue. "How was your meeting?"

"Not as worrisome as I feared. I cannot discuss details of course, but we are not immediately proceeding into combat."

"Good. I hate when you don't have time to really plan. It makes all of us twitchy." The yellow mech paused in his work to place his brush between his lips. Then he reached for small stick and a jar of darker paint. Prowl watched, curious, as Sunstreaker scraped a blob of darker green out of the jar and smeared it onto a small plate. Then he took the brush and mixed the lighter green on the bristles into the darker paint. Then he moved back to the canvas. "What do you think so far?"

"I like the sense of movement. Even without a solid subject, the piece doesn't feel static." The black and white mech stepped closer and reached out toward the younger mech. "May I touch you?"

Sunstreaker hesitated before replying, his brush strokes slowing against the canvas. "Not my arms or my hands. Or my face."

Prowl didn't miss the way the yellow mech's optics narrowed in remembered pain. Very carefully, he rested his hands on his partner's hips. "I will not touch you above the waist when you are painting."

The artist relaxed under his hands at the promise. "Thank you."

Sunstreaker gave himself a few moments to adjust to having Prowl so close, then returned to his painting. Prowl watched with fascination as the yellow mech added more triangles and diamonds to the image, occasionally stopping to darken the color he was working with, until a row of dark green shapes bordered the darkest blue and appeared to surge off the edge of the painting.

When he was finished--after signing the image with the glyphs that represented his name--Sunstreaker dropped his paintbrush into the solvent and laid his hands over Prowl’s. The tactician didn’t miss the way the yellow mech’s fingers trembled and he frowned slightly.

“I don’t think i’ve ever been so terrified,” Sunstreaker confessed softly. “I’ve faced legions of Decepticon frontliners and been less scared.”

“You were conditioned to expect the worst. I would have been surprised if you were not afraid.” Prowl leaned forward and rested his forehead against the back of the artist’s helm. “Was this enough for you to know that you can trust me?”

“I already know I can trust you, sir,” the yellow mech replied honestly. He pulled Prowl’s hands off his hips and moved the tactician’s hands until the older mech was hugging him. “I’ve always known that. It’s just going to take a long time to de-program that response. Revenant was really bad to me.”

Prowl pulled the younger mech against his chest and held Sunstreaker tightly. “We can repeat this scene as often as you need in order for you to overcome that abuse.”

The warrior leaned against the tactician and nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"Now, I believe I promised you a reward?"

"Yes, sir, but I don't think I'm up to what we talked about last night." 

"I understand." The elder mech pressed a kiss to the younger mech's helm. "We can work through things as slowly as you need to. What would you rather do?"

Prowl found himself surprised that he didn't mind the deviation from their plans, despite how much care they had put into planning the scene.

"I don't know, sir. I just need something relaxing."

The black and white mech thought for a moment before nodding. "Will you allow me to polish you?"

"Yes, sir!" Sunstreaker's agreement was enthusiastic and sounded less emotionally drained than he had a few moments before. "I'd like that very much."

"Then go to the berthroom and lay down. I will retrieve the supplies." Prowl loosened his hold on the golden twin so that Sunstreaker could follow his instructions. "But don't put away our toys just yet. We may decide to use them after all."

"All right." The artist turned around to face the tactician and gave the other mech a small smile. Then he leaned forward and kissed the black and white mech softly. "Thanks for understanding."

The younger mech turned away again before Prowl could respond. The tactician turned his head to watch as the yellow mech walked quickly to the berth room, the he made his way toward the small storage cabinet in the washrack. 

He sorted through the cleaners and polishes inside the cabinet--the number had tripled since he and Sunstreaker began their relationship--looking for one specific container. He smiled when he found it stacked underneath the sealant the frontliners used on cracked glass. He pulled the cream polish out of the cabinet carefully and then picked out a few of his favorite cloths. Once he was satisfied with his choices, Prowl closed the cabinet and walked to the berth room.

When he stepped in the room, Prowl took a moment to stop and admire the golden mech spread out on his berth. Sunstreaker's sleek lines were still astoundingly beautiful--especially when he gave himself over to Prowl like this--and he never tired of simply looking at his young lover. 

When he stared too long, though, Sunstreaker lifted his head from the berth and gave the tactician a concerned look. "Is everything all right?"

"I was just admiring the beautiful mech in my berth." The black and white mech smiled and crossed the remaining distance between them. 

"Can't blame you there," the yellow mech said with a cheeky smile. Then he snuggled back down into the pillows. 

Prowl swatted his leg playfully with one of the polishing cloths. "You seem to be feeling better."

"Truthfully? Not a whole lot. I still feel like I'm waiting for a missile strike."

"I hope this will ease your worry, then." The Praxian settled onto the berth and opened the canister of polish.

Sunstreaker smiled softly and shuttered his optics, giving himself over to Prowl's ministrations.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Prowl allowed himself a proud smile as he looked at the painting he had just hung on his office wall. It was a symbol of Sunstreaker's freedom and progress as much as a decoration, and he knew that he would always cherish it--even if their relationship might not stand the test of time.

"That's nice," Jazz said as he stepped into the office for their morning meeting. "Where'd you dig that up?"

"Sunstreaker painted it," the Praxian said, smiling again before turning to the saboteur. 

"Sunstreaker? Would-rather-punch-Cliffjumper-in-the-face-than-look-at-him Sunstreaker?" Jazz's surprise was evident.

"You give him too little credit. We would all rather punch Cliffjumper most of the time, and Sunstreaker has a wealth of talent." Prowl sat down at his desk and gestured for the other mech to do the same. "Perhaps if certain mechs did more to encourage that, there would be fewer instances of him giving in to the urge to punch."

Jazz's gaze drifted to the painting again for a moment before focusing on Prowl. "You're probably right about that. I'll plant the right seeds for that and see what happens."

"Excellent. Now, what did you find out about the mech I sent you after?"

"Nothing good. Looks like he defected to the Decepticons two vorns ago, along with his entire heavy artillery squad. Last place they were confirmed to have been was Iacon..."


End file.
